Dear
by SareRide9
Summary: Max writes a letter to no one, telling what's up in her life. You know, the usual. "I am doomed to a world of . . . Fang." Post-Fang


**Disclaimer: Patterson owns _him_ and the Flock.**

**A/N: Hey! If there's any spelling errors, grammer errors, it sucks... let me know! This is my take of what Max'll be doing for the next twelve or so years. I don't know if it's origional. I haven't seen anyone that has anything like this so...**

**Story time! Er, letter time!**

Dear ,

I saw _him_ everywhere.

Oh great, now I sound like Bella when Edward leaves. Yes, I did read _The __Twilight Saga. _Unfortunately, Nudge forced me to read it. She threatened me with Gazzy and Iggy blowing up everything I owned, what else was I supposed to say?

Seriously though, it was sort of the same thing. You know, both of our boy toys did leave us. _He _doesn't sparkle on the up-side; _h__e _didn't do any of that chivalrous stuff either, but that's a good thing to. I don't know what I would've done if that happened.

Getting back to the point, I saw _him_ everywhere.

Well, no I didn't. If I had seem _him_, _he _wouldn't be able to walk with out limping, and a broken nose. Definitely a broken nose.

Ugh, I should tell you what I mean. You see: when you know someone like the back of your hand it come naturally to compare them with other people.

Oh sure, I tried dating. That would be classified as an Epic Fail. (Yes, capitalizing Epic Fail is necessary.)

There was Thomas, the surfer dude. We were on Venice beach and he started hitting on me - badly - and I sorta liked it. The attention. No, the idea that someone would actually think I was worth the time of day. It was enlightening. So, Thomas took me out to get ice cream parlor. Why does everyone do that? Is the perfect date going to an ice cream shop? If so, why didn't someone - Nudge - tell me? The date was okay, in itself. But his eyebrows were what made me say no to date number two. They were _his _eyebrows.

Next, there was Adam. It went good for a while, he got me to laugh at some of his jokes, took me somewhere other than an ice cream parlor, and he looked like he had good intentions. Too bad Nudge pointed out that _he_ had the same haircut. Down went bachelor number two.

Then there was Peter, who wouldn't have worked out even if he hadn't had _his _nose. I mean, I could barely stop laughing when I thought of him. And no, he didn't have any sense of humor. Every time I looked at him, I imagined him as Peter Pan: tights, hat, hair, and voice too. And, when I finally forced the imaginary Peter off to Never Land, I started imagining Peter Griffin from Family Guy. It didn't work, to say the least.

That brings me to the last one, Scott. I hated him from the start. He was obviously a player; I hated players. Bye bye Scott! (Scott is a totally pervy name anyways)

I gave up after that. Nudge - even though I was perfectly content - cheered me up by forcing the boys out of the house, buying speakers, renting _Bride Wars_, picking up four extra large tubs of popcorn, and plugging the new speakers into her iPod. Before all of that, they cut my hair - I actually sort of liked it - but some basic make-up, and dressed me up in - curse them - skinny jeans, and an okay overly-long shirt. We danced to _Single Ladies _six times. Then, I stole the iPod and switched it to Paramore, I am now the lead guitar in an air guitar band.

The day after, we had a major clean up job and passed out for the rest of the day.

After that, I needed a new way to drown my sorrows. Boy toys and _Beyoncé _didn't work for very long. I actually contemplated to start watching Oprah. But, then I decided against it; I had Ellen for talk shows. I turned to music, changing my iPod's status of barely-any-songs to so-many-songs-I-can't-even-remember-which-is-which. That worked for three weeks, I memorized all of the songs and the iPod's memory was almost all used up.

That was the first year in a nut-shell. (Plus the saving the world from scientists in whitecoats.)

The next four were spent going from hobby to hobby: photography ("No stupid rabbit, stop moving!"), singing("You sound like a dying cat." Thanks for the honesty, Iggy.), animal safety (The government shut down our protest. Didn't they have to solve the National Debt?), energy saving ("I'm using that!" "Think about all the Polar Bears you just killed."), fencing ("Miss Ride, you can't punch you're opponent while practicing."), Shopping ("No! Max! You can't buy that! It's so last season!"). Nothing stuck for more than a month or two.

By the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth year, I threw myself into my plans. Athena would've been proud. (Did I mention one of the hobby's was learning all there is to know about Greek Mythology?) Seriously, I spent a month just for the three buildings in the Canadian branch. It was a good thing too, 'cause they had some state-of-the-art security systems. We got out of each safely, blowing everything up, and making sure that nothing remained.

In those three years, we'd destroyed all of the branches in Canada, South America, U.S., Australia, Antarctica, and part of Asia. You should've seen the kangaroos. Australia was my favorite, I think. Oh, we'd got Alaska and Hawaii, too. I hated the Hawaii trip, it reminded me too much of _him._

I sunk into a depression somewhere between the eleventh and twelfth years. _Maybe he didn't want me anymore. Maybe he died. Maybe something horrible happened._

Everywhere I went was torture. Everything reminded me of _him_. It was like _his_ picture was attached to the backs of my eyelids. My dreams were of the time we spent together. My thoughts were of _him. _I wasn't concentrated on my flock. It was just survive, make plans, think of _him. _

I am doomed to a world of . . . Fang.

Horribly Missing _Him_,

Max

**A/N: I mean no offence to anyone with the name of Scott. ;) I'm taking suggestions, blah blah blah. Have I mentioned that you guys rock? Seriously. Who want's me to make this into a story? Who's your favorite band? REVIEW? ... Please? *Bambi eyes***


End file.
